“Which way do you generally go to the river?” Norah asked.
“Why, anyway,” the Hermit answered. “Generally in this direction. Why do you ask, Miss Norah?”
“I was wondering,” Norah said. “We haven’t crossed or met a single track.”
The Hermit laughed.
“No,” he said, “I take very good care not to leave tracks if I can avoid it. You see, I’m a solitary fellow, Miss Norah, and prefer, as a rule, to keep to myself. Apart from that, I often leave camp for the greater part of the day when I’m fishing or hunting, and I’ve no wish to point out the way to my domain to any wanderers. Not that I’ve much to lose, still there are some things. Picture my harrowed feelings were I to return some evening and find my beloved frying-pan gone!”
Norah laughed.
“It would be awful,” she said.
“So I planned my camp very cunningly,” continued the Hermit, “and I can tell you it took some planning to contrive it so that it shouldn’t be too easily visible.”
“Well, it isn’t from the side I came on it,” Norah put in; “I never dreamed of anything being there until I was right on the camp. It did surprise me!”
“And me,” said the Hermit drily. “Well that is how I tried to arrange camp, and you could be within a dozen yards of it on any side without imagining that any was near.”